After being tossed around the inside of an old Cadillac at the fair’s Demolition Derby last month, I was pretty sure I never wanted to do another. The novelty of seeing a vehicle barreling toward you and bracing for that sickening, grinding crunch wore off after about the third collision. My friend Stan drove me back to his house, where his wife, Barbara, gave me a couple of Aleves and put me in a spare bedroom for the night.

But last week, it happened again.

I’d gone to the Chance Theater in Anaheim on Tuesday night for the unveiling of its new space, a project that could triple its 49-seat capacity when it opens in February. Lovely evening, and I was repeatedly assured the new venue will be ADA-compliant.

As I do every time I drive home from North County, I took the 55 to MacArthur west in Santa Ana, and then turned south on Main to Sunflower, where I made a right. Within a second, I realized that something was where it shouldn’t have been – namely, the grille of a black SUV was directly in front of my windshield.

As I jerked my wheel to the right, I actually remember thinking, This ------- is on the wrong side of the road. Then came that sickening metal-on-metal crunch, and the front of my coupe exploded. I’d veered enough that he didn’t hit me squarely head on but instead caught my left front corner and took out the bumper, fender and other parts.

It spun me counterclockwise, so instead of facing west, I found my car pointed southeast, splayed across the westbound traffic lanes and making a perfect target for someone coming around the corner to hit me broadside. But that’s not what I was thinking about. Rather, I was focused on the fact that the SUV was driving away.

A hit and run! I thought, and not realizing how badly wounded my coupe was, I considered giving chase. But before I could do that, another extraordinary thing happened. As the SUV went into the intersection, it turned neither left nor right on Main, but kept going straight – up and over a curb until it plowed into a concrete-block wall. Two young men emerged started to run. They’re running away! I am so screwed.

But they didn’t run away. They ran around their wrecked SUV – the front end was pushed back almost to the firewall – holding their heads in their hands. I called 911 and ran over.

The driver and passenger were dazed but not bloody or broken. The driver – he looked like a kid – handed me his license and I took down the info. The medics took them to the hospital before I could give him mine. It was around 11 p.m. before I got my car towed to a body shop in some dark corner of west Costa Mesa. Stan picked me up and drove me back to his house. Barbara gave me two Aleves and put me in the spare bedroom.

A couple of days later, I drove my rental car to the driver’s house in Santa Ana and left my I.D. info with his aunt. His parents called me later. They were very nice. Their son and his passenger are OK. He turned 18 five months ago and just started driving. It was his mom’s Tahoe.

Why was he eastbound on the westbound side of the raised concrete median? He didn’t appear to be drunk.

He told them he couldn’t remember. He did tell them why he didn’t stop: His brakes didn’t respond. Indeed, there were no skid marks at the scene. I’d guess he was doing about 50 when he hit me, and between that and deceleration, I’d say he was doing 35 or 40 when he hit the wall.

“The people in the tow yard couldn’t believe it wasn’t a fatal,” his dad said. “There’s an angel in that intersection.”

Maybe. But I’ll tell you what is in that intersection: pieces of my beloved XKR, a rare black beauty. I’ve driven by them several times now. At first there were recognizable pieces – a hose, a chrome headlight bucket, an amber side-marker lens. But each day, the debris field gets ground into smaller pieces, and soon there will be no sign of it. I expect my insurer to call any day to say it’s a total.

I wrecked my mom’s VW bus when I was 16, just a few months after I got my license. Wasn’t paying attention and pulled in front of a low-rider cruising Ocean Avenue. My parents were great about it, considering. I’d learned a lesson pretty cheap, considering. I hope my young friend does the same.

Mickadeit writes Mon.-Fri. Contact him at 714-796-4994 or fmickadeit@ocregister.com

A wreck last week on Sunflower Avenue in Santa Ana caused extensive front-end damage to Frank Mickadeit's coupe. FRANK MICKADEIT, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
The SUV that hit columnist Frank Mickadeit continued through the intersection of Main Street and Sunflower Avenue and crashed into an ivy-covered block wall. FRANK MICKADEIT, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Earlier in the evening, columnist Frank Mickadeit attended a "hard hat" party to show off the Chance Theater's new space in Anaheim. Here, actor Warren Draper (Jerry Springer in "Jerry Springer, the Opera," takes a sledge hammer to a wall that will come down. FRANK MICKADEIT, ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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